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Thursday, September 15, 2011

FUZZY BORDERS

The war lingers deepbehind my eyelids, mingleswith the charnel stenchof burning flesh and the high-pitched snap of explodingbone that battles the mundanityof sweeping floors.

Death’s impartial gaze liesburied in mounds of upturned soil.Potholes full of freezing bloodooze noisily with each falteredstep I take. The ash settleslike a downy blanket thrownover the bleeding landas if to erase the evidenceof guilt and responsibility.My rifle barrel dragslower and lower behind me,leaving a jagged trail for my innocenceto follow, a trail disappearingin the slushy residue.

The wax drieswhile I stand shiveringin the early winter snow,smoking a cigarette.

The serenity of the momentis shattered by the chokingmemory of stick peopletoo starved to eat, too weakto cheer, too lost to understandtheir freedom.

The buzzer sounds, drawingme back to the parking lotentrance, the snow, the secondfloor hallways demanding myfull attention.

About Robert P. Hansen:

Mr. Hansen currently teaches philosophy and ethics at a community college. He has had several poems and short stories published.